Slow Burns (Blacksteel Bandits Motorcycle Club Book 1) Read Free Page B

something pleasantly vague. She shook her head and forced an airy laugh to her lips, “Ancient history. So, you going to introduce me to my date?”
     
    As the blonde led Miranda away, Tyler watched through his little slew of barflies. The delight that flared when he saw her faltered. She was on a date. A double date. Tyler resisted the urge to scowl and forced himself to turn away from the scene. This was for the best. Miranda deserved better than him.
     
    He tried to take solace in that thought as he wrapped an arm around a pretty brunette who smelled of bourbon.
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    As the night wore on, Miranda recognized the signs of a date gone sour. Naomi and her loverboy butted heads over every little thing from song choice to drinks. Miranda's own forced date wasn't so hot either. His eyes kept wandering to skinny, younger ladies, with salon perfect highlights, and long manicured nails. A swell of rejection simmered in Miranda. She suddenly felt dumpy, thanks to her date's wordless distaste in her.
     
    She sighed and fiddled with her empty beer bottle. She fought the urge to swing her gaze, hopefully, around the bar. The last time she caught sight of Tyler, he was the central figure in a dance floor humpfest. A few girls probably took him up on everything he had to offer. Miranda swallowed down her prickly emotions at the mere thought, but she knew she had no right to the feeling. Tyler was his own man.
     
    “Look, I'm just saying this didn't work out,” Naomi's date said, hands flung up in a sign of defeat. His tone held a challenging edge, however. “Why should I blow money on a lady I won't be taking home?”
     
    Naomi's eyebrows rose to her hairline, irritation glittering in her eyes. Her lips twisted into a scowl as she said, with an incredulous shrill, “Uh, because you invited us to this bar, you cheapskate!”
     
    “Sweetcheeks, you got a pretty face and I'm sure you get free booze all the time.” Her date – Josh? Jonah? whatever – snorted as he shook his head. “But I ain't footing your bill tonight.”
     
    “You're an asshole,” snarled Naomi, her face turning a ruddy red as she stood.
     
    Miranda marveled how, even while spitting mad, Naomi seemed to exude grace and beauty. Her friend's irritation was catching, though. Miranda could feel her own temper rising, just beneath the surface. She tried to busy herself by watching the drunken masses writhing on the dance floor. If she and Naomi made a scene, there would be way too many people to relay the gossip all around town. Miranda had her job to think about. Who would want a foul-mouthed she-witch as their bank's manager?
     
    “Hey, no reason to sink money into a profitless investment.” Naomi's date punctuated his sentence with a mirthless chuckle.
     
    Miranda could feel her friend's ire rise. Her own anger itched beneath her skin. Usually, this wasn't such a big deal. However, when he went out of his way to order drinks for them , Miranda felt their irritation justified.
     
    Naomi's shriek pierced through the delightful bubble of heat and chatter in the bar, “What?!”
     
    Unable to contain her rage much longer, Miranda stepped into the conversation. As quietly as she could, Miranda pushed her chair away from the table and stood beside her friend. Catching the blonde by the shoulder, she leaned closer and murmured, “Naomi, let's just buy our drinks and leave.”
     
    Naomi wheeled her enraged gaze on Miranda, who returned the fiery look with a stern glare. Just as Naomi opened her mouth to sputter out an exasperated reply, someone else stepped in. “Is everything all right over here?”
     
    “Yes, it's fine,” snapped Naomi, her face reddening further as she spun on her heel. She stopped as she came face-to-face with a scruffy, leather-clad dirty blonde. Naomi gasped theatrically, her petite hand hovering next to her smile. “Oh, it's you!”
     
    The man nodded, a polite grin on his lips, “And you,